


And The Cycle Began Again

by Shadow_Of_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Punishment, Sexual Content, Slash, paddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Of_Castiel/pseuds/Shadow_Of_Castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel decides to punish Dean when the hunter denies the angel's interest for sex. Dean, of course, is willingly punished, as he is wearing Castiel's collar with pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Cycle Began Again

The room was silent but for Dean’s slow, steady breathing, chest rising and falling as stared fixedly up at the ceiling, His chest was the only thing that moved in the room about his person, except for the long, slow lazy sweeps of his eyelids closing over his eyes every time he blinked, the fine spray of dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, in stark contrast with the lighter freckles that peppered his skin.

He reached up suddenly as his thoughts shifted, fingers snagging against the collar that he wore about his neck. His lips curved into a smile as his body became a little more animated, eyes shining with pride as he thought about the reason why he was even wearing the leather collar about his neck. The pads of his fingertips skimmed over his collar gently, caressing its slightly rough textured surface soothingly, as his smile broadened a little. His thoughts shimmered in bright waves when he thought of Castiel, who’d requested that Dean wear the collar as a mark of devotion and respect for him and their relationship.

After a little coaxing at the time, Dean had finally acquiesced, soon seeing the collar as a mark of belonging to someone, of placing himself in the care and charge of Castiel. Over a short course of time, the collar had proved to be an icon of pride in him, strengthening feelings of love in him whenever he caught sight of it in the mirror, crystallizing into a more beautiful shining thing whenever Castiel requested he wore it. Dean always complied, loving the referral of power, of having Castiel dominate him and he became the willing submissive for him.

His time in Hell had instilled in him the need for someone to take charge, to look after him and Castiel was always willing to step in and fill those shoes, to remind him that there could be love in the world if Dean knew where to look. Dean knew that Castiel needed Dean just as much as Dean needed him and that Castiel needed someone to look after, to take beneath his wing, quite literally. After all, in their messed up world, all they had was each other and the collar was a very physical representation of the commitment they’d made to one another.

Of course, the hunter didn’t wear the collar all the time, showers and most daily routines forbade that, but both Dean and Castiel looked forward to those times when they were alone and on certain other special occasions when Castiel requested he slip the collar on for him. Dean felt empowered by the strip of leather around his neck, emboldened by the thought that he was declaring his love for the angel more boldly than a wedding band ever could as it was more immediately noticeable.

Dean’s hand dropped to his abdomen, feeling the soft flesh beneath his fingertips give slightly beneath the weight of his hand and he sighed, thoughts shifting to an event earlier in that day. Dean’s brow furrowed in sudden anger, and dissatisfaction. In his mind’s eye, he thought of Sam, of how his brother had looked at his collar when Dean had prepared to go out with the leather strap still firmly in place.

“What?” Dean had asked, when he’d seen Sam’s pointed glare and resultant bitchy expression.

Dean was all too familiar with his brother’s scowl and the way his lips would always thin out into an angry line whenever Sam was displeased with something. Dean had sighed and repeated his earlier question when Sam hadn’t answered fast enough.

“What?” Dean asked, kicking at Sam’s foot a little too hard to get his attention when Sam looked pointedly away.

“Do you have to wear that?” Sam had asked, without a further glance at his brother.

“Wear what, Sammy?” Dean had shot back, knowing full well what Sam had meant yet needing his brother to speak the words aloud.

“You know what,” Sam had replied, gesturing towards his own neck and miming the shape of a collar.

“My collar? Dude, I’m not taking it off,” Dean had replied, firmly, knowing that he wouldn’t do as Sam had asked.

Sam was not the Master of him; that honor went to Castiel alone. Only Castiel could tell Dean when to take his collar off. In fact, the angel had implicitly made it clear that he wanted Dean to wear it that day, to prove his allegiance to Castiel. Of course, Dean had done as the angel had asked, feeling proud to wear it. Now that Sam and he were going out to catch some dinner, it seemed as though the younger Winchester was finally objecting to that which Dean held with such pride.

“Dean, we’re going out in public,” Sam had hissed, finally turning a narrow eyed gaze up to where Dean had loomed over him.

“Yeah? So? People wear wedding rings in public. You don’t tell them to take them off, do you?” Dean had asked pointedly.

“Yeah, but they’re wedding bands,” Sam had said, staring pointedly at the collar that circled Dean’s neck.

“Yeah? So? This is my wedding band, Sam. Look, let me tell you something, okay? This collar here? This tells the world who I belong to, okay? It’s a thing with me, right? Pride,” Dean said. “It proves I’m committed to someone.”

“I’m happy for you , I really am, Dean, but seriously? You look like a freaking dog,” Sam had said, before turning away.

Dean had remained silent so long, Sam had wondered if his brother had left. When he’d turned back, he’d found that Dean was still there, a wounded look deep in his eyes as he stared soulfully at Sam.

“A dog, Sam,” Dean had finally said, voice tight with anger that was held deep within himself. “A dog. Is that what you freaking think of me? To be honest, I don’t care what you think. I have my reasons for why I wear this and I wear it out of love for Castiel. You should be happy for me, for us. We are committed to each other and love each other as much as any other couple does.”

“You gotta admit, it’s pretty weird, even for you,” Sam had said, finally rising to his feet to tower slightly over his brother.

Dean had not been impressed, yet neither did he step away. To step away from Sam would have shown that Sam had dominance over him, and Dean would be damned if he would put himself in that position. Dean was only submissive towards Castiel, a being more powerful and worthy of respect than Sam.

“Plenty of people practice BDSM, Sam,” Dean said, without flinching. “It’s a beautiful practice, very meaningful to those who indulge in it. I will not take this collar off, not for you.”

And with that, he’d turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him and leaving his brother alone. Dean had climbed behind the wheel of his car, hands trembling with residual anger over his brother’s lack of understanding, before starting the Impala and driving away before Sam could even think about trying to get in the car with him. Dean knew that he couldn’t handle any more of his brother’s close-mindedness, then or now.

Dean sighed, eyes blinking as his thoughts returned to the present again, lips thinned out in an angry line, brows furrowed over stormy green eyes as he felt his anger well up inside him again. He could not understand why Sam thought the practice weird. He’d meant what he’d said to Sam, that he thought the idea of wearing Castiel’s collar beautiful and a source of pride and love to him. He was glad to wear that collar, even if Sam refused to accept it. He thought again of how relieved he’d felt upon his return to the motel room to find that Sam had long gone, leaving Dean alone for an interminable time to think and wait for Castiel.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s deep voice announced suddenly from nearby, as the bed dipped beneath the angel’s weight beside the still laying hunter.

Dean sighed, and took a moment to collect himself, before he turned his face to Castiel’s, attempting a smile for his lover’s benefit.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean managed, trying to sound a little more like his usual self and almost achieving it.

“Something is wrong. What is it?” Castiel asked, as he titled his head to the side to regard his still prostrate lover.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing I can’t handle anyway,” Dean sighed, finally pulling himself up into a sitting position and tucking his arms around his updrawn knees.

“I demand that you tell me, Dean. Something is bothering you and I wish to know it,” Castiel said, voice turning dark with command.

Dean’s laugh whuffled out in to the silence as he shook his head slightly. He’d heard that tone plenty of times before, when they’d been alone and Castiel had played dominant to Dean’s submissive. Usually Dean loved that tone, loved being commanded to do things, transferring the shift of power from his own mind to Castiel’s. This time, it didn’t work. He was still too angry with his brother to find Castiel’s commands a turn on.

“I can help you. Now tell me, Dean. That is a direct command,” Castiel said, as he tapped Dean’s collar as though to remind Dean just what game they were playing.

There was a lustful look in Castiel’s eyes, that denoted that the angel wanted sex from Dean, and needed to make love to him and indulge in all the foreplay prior to that. Dean sighed and scrubbed his hand over his eyes, before he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger wearily.

“It’s Sam,” he finally sighed, voice grating out his disappointment over his brother.

“And what did Sam do?” Castiel asked, shifting closer and laying one hand upon Dean’s knee possessively.

Dean turned and stared deep into Castiel’s liquid blue eyes, shining with love and the need to do right by Dean, no matter what. Dean folded one arm around his lover’s body and pecked a kiss to the end of the angel’s nose gratefully. He knew that Castiel loved him, and was just as devoted to him as Dean was to the angel. Despite the collar around his neck, he knew that whatever they did together was borne out of love and the genuine need to be with each other.

“He doesn’t understand us nor why I wear your collar,” Dean said, with a slight smirk of shame.

The shame he felt was not because of his relationship with Castiel, nor their mutual need that that the collar represented, but over his shame that Sam could not accept the same things. He gave the angel a slight shrug, as Castiel stared at him, plump lips thinned out into an expression of anger underpinning the still prevalent lust.

“Did you tell him why you wore that collar?” Castiel asked.

“Course I did. What the hell do you think I am? A douche-bag? I told him I was proud to wear your collar, that I did it out of love. Sam seemed to think I looked like a dog because of it. Stupid son of a bitch,” Dean growled turning away slightly from his lover.

“Thank you, Dean, for what you did, but don’t call your brother that,” Castiel reprimanded, gently. “He doesn’t understand us, is all.”

“Understatement,” Dean snorted, still refusing to look at his lover.

His eyes drifted closed as he felt Castiel’s hand slip between his legs, firm palm pressing against Dean’s dick and squeezing gently, indicating the angel’s interest in him. Dean’s breath caught in his throat with need, cock already half hard as Castiel started to rub at him through his jeans. Still, Dean pushed Castiel away and shook his head forcefully at his lover.

“No, Cas. Not now, okay? Too angry,” Dean said, with an effort, unable to hide the lust that underpinned his tone.

“No, Dean. You do not understand. You will do as I say, or you will be punished,” Castiel said, tone grating and aroused. “You do not deny the Master when I want to fuck you. You do not have the power to deny me.”

Dean shivered beneath his lover’s words, dick hard and aching between his legs now, pressing against the too tight confines of his jeans. His breath was forced now, whistling from the constrictions of his throat as arousal coursed through him, arousal born of the notion that Castiel was willing to dominate him despite Dean’s anger. He bowed his head slightly, his indication that he was giving Castiel permission to continue.

This was part of their relationship, that Castiel never forced himself upon Dean, that he always waited for Dean’s dip of the head before he even made a move upon him. He merely started off the chain of events, indicated his interest and waited for Dean’s nod. Theirs was a relationship built on mutual trust and neither did anything the other was uncomfortable with or didn’t want, or forced himself upon the other.

“Do you wish to be punished, Dean?” Castiel asked, voice tight with mock anger.

“Yes, Cas. Please,” Dean whispered, glad to hand the reins over to Castiel for a time and to play along.

“Incorrect,” Castiel said.

“Yes, Master. Punish me. Do with me as you wish, for I am yours,” Dean said, repeating the oft repeated chant between them and gladly.

Still, despite giving his permission, he still did not expect the rush of air that assailed him, that slapped against his now naked ass as he found himself splayed awkwardly over his lover’s lap. Castiel’s knees dug sharply into Dean’s soft abdomen, and Dean found himself aroused at the rough treatment. He gave a surprised grunt at the feel of Castiel’s hand slapping against his ass, forcefully, fingers bunched together to maximise the pain factor.

“Cas,” Dean yelled out involuntarily as Castiel’s hand descended upon his waiting flesh again, again, again.

Dean couldn’t help himself. He rutted against Castiel’s thigh, whines purling from his throat as Castiel’s palm descended heftily upon his waiting body, leaving stinging slaps and spanks upon his quickly reddening flesh.

“You have not learnt yet,” Castiel ground out when he rested upon his lover’s left ass cheek. “You have not learnt at all. You are a bad slave for denying me and need to be punished more forcefully.”

“Please, Master,” Dean round out, hips still rutting helplessly against Castiel’s firm thigh. “Show me, show me how bad I have been.”

His body jerked and he yelled out in sudden shock and pain as Castiel slapped a paddle heftily against Dean’s ass. Castiel applied the paddle with ease, pounding Dean’s ass with great enjoyment, enjoying the way that Dean jerked and cried out beneath his ministration. He felt the thick length of Dean’s erection jerking and rutting against his thigh and the way that his pre-cum smeared against him, leaving shining strands against his pants.

“You are messing up my pants, Dean,” Castiel said, in feigned disapproval.

“Sorry,” Dean gasped out, writhing yet unable to stop his forward momentum of rutting helplessly against Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel thought his pants away, smiling when Dean’s dick finally came into contact with the skin of his thigh, friction pleasurable between them as hips slapped loudly against thigh.

“Punish me,” Dean begged, pawing at Castiel’s other leg mindlessly.

Castiel discarded the paddle and used the flat of his hand again, slapping Dean’s ass with great enjoyment. Finally, he pulled away and pressed his palm against his naked lover’s ass, healing the bruises and the welts that bloomed across his ass cheeks, before breaching him with one suddenly slick finger. Dean yelled and surged forward with the force of the unannounced intrusion, before fucking himself back onto Castiel’s waiting hand. Castiel prodded deep inside his lover, stretching him wide and loose with rough jerks and twists of his hand, knowing that Dean preferred the rougher treatment, knew that Dean got off on being abused within reason.

They both knew their boundaries and knew not to cross them, doing whatever it took to please the other and no more. Their boundaries were a lot wider than most people’s - Dean’s pushed wide by his time spent in Hell, tortured time and time again and getting off on pain, while Castiel was used to commanding his angels in Heaven, and having people scurry to obey him and please him. He too, had spent time in Heaven’s prison, and had been tortured whilst there. His Grace could take a lot of punishment and enjoyed it, although only through Dean’s hands.

He slid his hand from between Dean’s cheeks , before twisting Dean onto his lap, legs spread wide around Castiel’s torso. He eased Dean down onto his erect dick, tight hunter’s muscles clamping tightly around his thick shaft. Their cries mingled as Castiel’s Grace flared briefly, in recognition for the slave bound to him through love and obedience. Dean’s humanity surged upwards to meet Castiel’s celestial wavelength, in recognition of his master and lover.

Slowly, their bodies started rocking against one another, Castiel pumping deep into Dean as Dean rode him lustily. Their sweat and breath mingled, as they writhed and fucked upon a creaking bed, movements harsh and needy as Castiel tugged upon Dean’s collar.

“You are mine,” he growled out possessively. “You belong to me.”

“I love you,” Dean ground back. “I am proud to be yours.”

Castiel chanted out words of love and possession in Enochian, before switching to English when he said - “Love you Dean.”

Dean’s back arched and he came, spurting over their still thrusting bodies with such force, he lost vision for an interminable amount of time, and he felt nothing but Castiel’s strong hands gripping him,, the thickness of Castiel’s shaft pumping and grinding into him and the thick wet feel of his own semen staining them both. He cried out and felt his collar plucked once again by Castiel’s grasping fingers, as though the angel was reminding him of his mastery over him and Dean came again, screaming now with the force of his second orgasm ripped from him. He felt the thick wet rush of Castiel’s semen pulsing deep inside him when the angel came, hard shaft still moving and throbbing inside Dean’s tight and abused channel.

They collapsed upon the bed, sated, weary, gasping for breath as they stared into each other’s eyes. Castiel pecked a surprisingly chaste kiss upon Dean’s willing mouth before pulling purposefully away to stare at Dean. This time, Dean had a proper grin for him, love, adoration shimmering in his eyes instead of anger.

“Do not listen to Sam, Dean. Do not let him get the better of you or your love for me. I am master of you, not him. He does not deserve to understand our love nor why we need this,” and Castiel touched Dean’s collar reverently.

“No, sweetheart, he doesn’t,” Dean agreed readily. “He doesn’t love you like I do. Half the time, I don’t think he loves me.”

“He does, Dean, he just doesn’t know how to show you,” Castiel disagreed slowly. “And don’t try and argue with me or I will punish you again.”

“I’m disagreeing, Cas,” Dean said, with a grin. “I’m disagreeing quite heartily.”

Castiel gave Dean a rare, yet joyous grin, before he settled Dean over his knee again. Dean yelled with renewed arousal when he felt the first slap of Castiel’s sweaty palm against his ass, rutting forward as the cycle began again.

~fini~


End file.
